Hi, everyone! I know I haven't updated this story for a while (it was updated the 27th of January, but just because I removed an author's note, so chapter 18 was not really a new chapter). Anyway, don't worry, this story hasn't been forgotten. Even though I cannot dedicate too much time to fanfiction at the moment, I'm trying to keep on writing, when I have some free time. Bear with me.
Just a request: if you're a submitter, please assign your extra points either via review or via PM (if you want to assign them, of course). The list of submitters with their current points is on my bio. If you're not a submitter but you'd like to become one, sponsor submissions are still open. By the way, I take this opportunity to thank 20, Pacecca, and Luthien'sLight for submitting sponsors; your characters will be introduced in a few chapters.
And now, enjoy your reading :)
First day in the Capitol
Malachi Day (17)- District 10 male tribute
The Loyal Shepherd
Once in the Capitol, the first step is the Remake Center, where tributes are prepared for the opening ceremony of the Hunger Games- a parade on chariots. I've seen it many times, I've seen tributes wear extravagant clothes… like mannequins in a fancy shop… that's what tributes are: mannequins manoeuvred by the Capitol. I don't want to be part of this, but I have no choice. My siblings… they want me to survive, and I cannot disappoint them, I must do my part for them.
I wince. A woman named Tonia- a member of my prep team- is smearing some kind of lotion over my naked body, but the lotion is colder than I thought.
"What's that?" I ask her, nervous.
I feel so powerless and helpless while lying here, on this table, and completely naked!
"Depilatory cream. You cannot present yourself to Pandora with all this hair," she answers, while placing some strips on my arms.
"Pandora?"
"Pandora Cham is the name of your personal stylist. You will certainly like her," she explains.
She sounds rather annoyed, but I don't care, I have at least another question to ask. I look at her, while she's placing other strips on my legs and torso. What for? Anyway, Tonia's skin is covered by a sort of golden powder so that it glistens in the light, and this in sharp contrast with her big, black eyes.
"And what ab…"- RIP!- "…ouch!"
Tonia has just ripped off one strip! How painful! If this is what depilation means…
"Don't complain, kiddo. You have to suffer to be beautiful," she scolds me.
I'd like to tell her that I don't want to be beautiful… I've never been beautiful, after all… but I think I'd better give up. I have still another question to ask, though.
"What about my mentor?" I enquire.
All I know about him is that he's named Charmant Lefauve- RIP! OUCH! - and that he comes from the Capitol. At the Reaping, he gave me the impression of a rather cold person, and I still think so, since he didn't speak that much during our train ride to Capitol City.
RIP!
"Ouch!"
"It's his first year in the Games. That's all I know," Tonia finally answers.
RIP!
"Ouch!"
When the torture… I mean… when the depilation is over, Tonia leaves me alone. I get up and sit upright. A white robe is hanging on the barren wall. I go fetch it. My skin aches with every movement, but at least I can cover my naked body with something. The fabric is soft and gentle. Is it silk? Who knows? I think I've never touched something made of silk… silk is too expensive for a simple farmer to afford. I'd like to buy clothes made of this gentle fabric- whatever it is- for my siblings. They would like them… better than the old, rough clothes we're used to, no doubt.
Suddenly, I hear a female voice from behind my back: "I hope you'll like your outfit as well."
I immediately turn around, startled… but I see nobody! The room is empty, so where did that voice come from? Is there… I don't know… a hidden camera or mic? But then I see her… or, rather, the first thing I see are her amber eyes… but they seem to be floating in the air! As she's walking away from the door, the rest of her body starts to be visible as well, but it feels like she has just appeared out of nowhere. She was literally blending in with the door before! Anyway, the newcomer is a little woman with short, grey hair, a round face, and delicate features. Guessing her age is hard, since her grey-green skin looks like that of a reptile.
"I'm Pandora Cham, your stylist," she introduces herself at some point.
I'm still too amazed to reply. What trick was that? Is she a witch?
"I've been studying the way chameleons can blend in with the environment, trying to reproduce the same mechanism. Of course, we already knew how to make hovercrafts invisible, but no one would believe humans could do it as well before I carried out my research. At first, the government wanted to use my research for military purposes, but it wasn't finished on time; their funding was useful, though," she explains.
"And your clothes? They…"
"Now, I can make both human skin and fabrics blend in at will. The only problem is that this process doesn't last that long…"- she sighs- "…there's still much to study."
"So… am I going to wear something made of the same stuff?" I enquire.
"Oh, no, no, no… the government wouldn't let me use this technology in the Games. I just thought you needed an explanation for my sudden appearance," she replies with a shrug.
A thought dawns on me: how long has she been blending in with the room without me realizing it? I blush at the thought.
"Uh… thanks?"
"Besides, it would be too spectacular for this year's parade," she adds.
"What do you mean?" I ask, confused.
I thought Capitolites loved the chariot parade, and the more spectacular the better. Who wouldn't want to see their enemy parading for them in silly clothes, after all?
She sighs in response. "Well, let's say that normally parades haven't got a specific theme, but this year… I spoke to my colleagues about it… umm… many of them are going to present outfits that refer to the recent history of our great country… an opposition between innocence and treachery, that's the general idea. Can you see what I mean?"
I nod. "I think I can."
"Good."
In fact, my chariot outfit is composed of a white leotard, over which I'm wearing a robe that seems to be made of sheep wool. In addition, a white powder has been smeared over my skin and hair to make them bleach. I've got also a cap with two sheep ears.
"A sheep?" I ask Pandora, while looking at my reflection in the mirror.
"A lamb," she corrects me. "Lambs are symbols of innocence, right?"
Yes, symbols of innocence but also of sacrifice…
…...
Iora Liberty (14)- District 8 female tribute
The Model
This should be my moment! It could be my moment… if only I wasn't wearing a ridiculous outfit! What was my stylist thinking when he created this thing? How can he even be considered a stylist? As a matter of fact, my mother could tailor a better costume out of a trash bag… and the Capitol with all its resources produced this… ah! How disappointing! I look at the mirror again. My outfit is a colourful patchwork of geometric pieces of tissue. In addition to it, I'm wearing a white hat that has a shape similar to a horseshoe, a black mask, and ridiculous flats with a red ribbon on each. What should this costume represent?
At some point, Truett joins me in my room. His outfit is identical to mine.
"Hey. You okay?" he says.
"Okay!? How could I ever be okay?" I reply, annoyed.
"Uh, yeah… it was a stupid question, sorry… the Games…"
"Who cares about the Games? This parade should be my moment! I'm born for parades! But how can I shine, if I'm dressed as… as a clown?" I complain, beside myself.
Oh, I'm so nervous and outraged that I could weep!
"It's not a clown costume. My stylist told me that we're dressed as a Harle… well, I don't remember the precise name, but we're not wearing clown costumes, that's for sure," he corrects me- how irritating!
"Do you think I care? It's not a fashionable costume, that's what matters! Most people don't see how important the initial parade is… they think only of weapons and not of how they appear! But first impressions are extremely important!"
In response, Truett gets closer to me. He tries to put his hand on my shoulder, but I back off.
"Okay… hey, you did well at the Reaping, your dress was wonderful," he says with a smile.
"Bah… it made me look fat," I rebut, rolling my eyes.
"You're not fat at all… on the contrary, you're…" he starts saying, but he stops before finishing his utterance.
"I am what?"
"You're thin," he promptly answers.
"That's what you wanted to say? Or what you wanted me to hear?"
Since we left District 8, Truett has had a sort of protecting attitude towards me, but I don't see why he should. He always tries to be caring, but sometimes he's so irritating! He asks me if I'm okay, if I need help… he even checks what I eat! But I don't need a babysitter! Besides, he has a clumsy way of speaking… he seems- I'd say- embarrassed in my presence. Maybe he likes me… but how could he? I'm so fat! No one can really like me in that way! Maybe he's just trying to be kind because we're district partners. He just wants an ally, and then in the arena…
Truett takes a deep breath. "Iora… you're thin for real, but… too thin… anorexic… you need help… I'm a doctor, I can help you," he claims.
In response, I burst out laughing. "You!? A doctor!? You're too young!"
"Okay, I'm studying to become a doctor. Anyway, I can help you!"
"You're joking!" I rebut, amused.
"No, I'm not."
By looking at his straight face, I can tell that he's serious.
"I don't need your help. As for my physical condition, it's none of your business. I'm a model, Truett, I need to stay fit," I tell him, watching him right in the eye- oh, he's so tall! How irritating!
That said, I turn to the mirror again.
"Refusing food means refusing life. I don't know why you hate your life, but I'll find it out. One thing is certain: if you're not attached to life, you cannot survive in the arena."
I turn around. I'd like to reply something, but then our escort pops up. "Oh, here you are! Hurry up! The chariots are waiting for you!" he urges us, excited.
…...
Mircalla Blutdurst (25)- Announcer for the Hunger Games*
I'm excited. It's my first year as the official announcer for the Hunger Games. I've already worked in the Games, but I was just an assistant… the assistant of Claudius Templesmith, the great celebrity. Who could ever notice me? I would live in his shadow! But it's my turn to shine now! The war was not completely useless, after all; it was fundamental to get rid of the parasites of the old society… parasites dressed in fancy clothes like ivy growing around a tree trunk; they would stay there until there was something to suck out. But sometimes changes are necessary… get rid of the old to make room for the new. Even President Smith has highlighted that a new era has begun with his presidency. New president, new Head Gamemaker, new Master of Ceremonies… many things have changed, but not the Hunger Games themselves. They are a symbol, a tradition that cannot and should not be changed. The Hunger Games are a symbol of power; if you have to do with them to some extent, then you're an important person in the Capitol.
Speaking of changes, I'm in a place that has been built right on the occasion of this year's Games: The Crystal Paradise- a luxury restaurant made almost completely of glass. It has a spectacular, oval-shaped terrace that looks into the City Circle- the main square of Capitol City. From there, I'll comment on the chariot parade along with the Master of Ceremonies. At the moment, I'm in the so called "Hall of Mirrors"- a long corridor with wall mirrors on both sides. The walls reflect on each other in an infinite game of mirrors, so that you get the impression of a dilated space. Before reaching the terrace, I look at my distorted reflection in one of the mirrors. I look great on the whole: my curly, raven hair is loose; a dark brown eyeshadow and lipstick bring out my red eyes and full lips; a peach-coloured blusher wakes up my skin tone; the turquoise dress that I'm wearing fits me as if it was a veil made of water, and it highlights my slender figure.
Once on the terrace, the panorama is breath-taking. The sun has already gone down, but we won't miss it. In fact, the square is lit by a myriad of lights. Anyone who's anyone in the Capitol has booked a seat to watch the parade live, but they all look the same from here… colourful drops in a colourful sea… so little, so insignificant.
"You must be Mircalla Blutdurst," says a male voice from behind my back.
I turn around. It's Cinnamon Nicewarble- the new Master of Ceremonies. By their deep voice, I can tell that they're a man (biologically speaking), but they have what in the Capitol is called an "androgynous appearance"- a combination of both male and female features.
"How do you do," I greet them with a smile.
"Oh, no need to be that formal. You may call me Cinnamon," they reply.
Once ready to go live, Cinnamon and I take our seats, miked and smiley.
"Live in 4… 3… 2… 1!"
"Good evening, Panem! Welcome to the chariot parade of the 76th Hunger Games! I am Cinnamon Nicewarble, your Master of Ceremonies!" says Cinnamon.
"And I am Mircalla Blutdurst, the official announcer for the Games!" I add.
"So, Mircalla… apparently, there are many novelties this year. How do you feel about these Games?"
"Novelties don't hurt, Cinnamon. After all, we meet new tributes every year, and I'm sure that the 76th annual Hunger Games won't disappoint us. Tributes are the true protagonists of this show… but look! The first chariots are coming!"
Indeed, you can already see the chariot of District 1, accompanied by the cheers of the crowd that are so loud to overwhelm the national anthem. One's chariot is very minimal this year, though. Its tributes are wearing simple, white robes that flutter with the movement. Their outfits seem to be made of a soft material, maybe of silk. The only touch of jewelry is a sort of golden tiara that both tributes are wearing around their foreheads.
"Umm… that's strange… District 1 should represent luxury… I mean, we're used to far fancier outfits than those ones," comments Cinnamon.
"It's a smart choice in my opinion... a break from everyone's expectations. I daresay that the tributes of District 1 look like angels… wonderful, innocent angels," I rebut.
"Well, I hope they won't be innocent forever, if you know what I mean…"
I chuckle in response.
Then, it's the turn of District 2. Its tributes are dressed as soldiers- fatigues, helmets, fake rifles hanging on their shoulders, two black lines on each cheek. Those outfits have definitely a clearer message than those of District 1. After all, Two is famous for its military force all over the world.
"Oh, our brave warriors!" I say, clasping my hands.
"Yeah, there's not that much to say. The tributes of District 2 look promising as usual," replies Cinnamon. "But let's see what District 3 has in store! Wait... what's that?"
…...
Quantum "Quan" Sparks (17)- District 3 male tribute
The Enigma
Shit! This is bad!
Being District 3's chariot between those of two Career districts, I expected the audience to ignore it, but how could they ignore us? We're wearing such stunning outfits! At first, they seemed just two green leotards, meaningless and mediocre… but then… then they lighted up as if they were TV screens! Now, you can see several multi-coloured cubes move in what looks like an empty, black space. But it's just an illusion, some sort of projection. Besides, our stylists asked Dorah and me to stay close to each other; as a consequence, we seem a single being now. The effect must be awesome, and a quick look at the huge screens at the sides of the square confirms my assumption, not to mention the fact that the crowd is roaring like crazy. My strategy was not to draw too much attention, but…
"Hey, Quan," says Dorah, interrupting my thoughts.
I turn to her. She smiles as soon as our eyes meet, but she looks… I don't know… she looks kind of worried.
"You okay? You look pensive," she continues.
None of your business, I think… but I cannot say it aloud, right? I need to play the part of the good, innocent guy until the arena.
So, I flaunt a sweet smile before replying: "Ah, don't worry… erm… I'm just… overwhelmed by all this… the Reaping, the Games… but the Capitol is amazing, and this parade…"
I don't finish my utterance though, because I notice that Dorah is not paying much attention to what I'm saying. Actually, she seems more interested in watching the moving cubes on my outfit than listening to me. How annoying! I seethe with anger; it feels like being in a pressure cooker ready to explode. Dorah interrupted my thoughts, she asked me if I'm okay, and then... she dares to be distracted while I'm answering her question! Why did she ask, then? Besides, I need to shout in order to reply, because the national anthem and the crowd's cheers are so loud that I can barely hear my own voice! Ah, if only I could silence everything! My head is splitting! Cool down, Quan... you cannot freak out right now!
"Dorah?"
"Uh... yeah?"
I smile. "It's my turn to ask if you're okay, apparently..."
She shakes her head in response. "Sorry... I've got some attention problems... but yes, I'm okay for the rest," she replies, a bit uneasy.
Great! My district partner has problems! How lucky I am! Ah, sarcasm is useless now!
"Never mind," I say with a smile.
"By the way, we can talk to each other, if there are problems... we're a team, aren't we?" she adds.
I look at her. If Dorah was someone else... I mean, if she was a street girl- oh, I know how street people are, since I've become one of them!- I'd think there was some malice in her last utterance... I'd think she's interested in allying with me just to cover her ass in the arena, but... Dorah doesn't seem to be that kind of person. She spoke with some kind of candour, with some kind of innocence... she reminds me of how I was before ending up in the streets, of how I was when Seren was still alive... ah, I must dismiss these thoughts, for they're pointless! Dorah has to die in order for me to win! But an alliance with her could be useful, all things considered... I mean, that's what the audience would expect from a hopeless boy of a non-Career district... an alliance with his district partner, a safe bet...
"Did I say something wrong?" Dorah asks me, interrupting my thoughts... again.
"Ah, no, just... I thought nobody would want to ally with a clumsy boy like me... I mean, I almost tripped at the Reaping," I reply, pretending to be embarrassed.
"You're my district partner, Quan."
"Yes, I'll ally with you, then... for District 3!"
…...
Canaan Redfield (15)- District 12 male tribute
The Silver Knife
I'm in the Capitol, but what am I supposed to feel? Excitement? Sense of belonging because my father is a Capitolite? The truth is that the Capitol means nothing to me. I've seen it just twice in my life: this year for the Games and last year. Being a Capitolite, my father was warned about the bombing in time, so that he could leave the district safe and sound along with me. He didn't tell me anything about it, though… not at first. He just ordered me to leave, and I obeyed him, of course. Who knows how he would have punished me otherwise? The Capitol saved my life, and yet… I hate this story! I hate the idea of District 12- my district, my home- being burnt to ashes! Yes, I don't like every part of District 12- the Seam is a sewer, and I loathe it with all my heart- but District 12 is still my home, the place where I was born, the place I belong to!
The chariot begins to stir, interrupting my thoughts. I can already glimpse what I'll see out there: an immense square, so lit that it looks like a night sky with more stars than sky. I wonder what the audience will think of District 12's costumes. The tributes who precede us are wearing decent outfits on the whole… I suppose. Honestly, I'm not a fashion expert, so I don't know what to think. Our costumes are… peculiar. They're made of black feathers; as a consequence, we look like crows… or, rather, like crows that have just flown through a fire, since our feathers are all burnt. The reference to the Mockingjay is evident, but it has a different meaning in this case: we're burnt birds, we're phoenixes that will never rise from our ashes again, we're beaten rebels, and we have to bow our heads.
As soon as we enter the square, an unpleasant surprise is waiting for us: the crowd around us has fallen silent… completely silent. Not even the anthem is played now. You can only hear the trotting of horses and the noise of wheels on the paved floor. When we were still inside the centre, I noticed that the audience's cheers seemed to decrease as the chariot of District 11 was making its appearance, and yet… I didn't predict that. How could I, after all? For what I know, Capitolites are always glad to see tributes sent to their deaths. I have a quick look at my district partner: she looks tense. She's staring ahead, probably trying to ignore the silent audience. Well, that's definitely an unpleasant situation… not that I feel empathy for her. But her strategy seems smart. I look at the bottom of the square, where you can see the white silhouette of the president's mansion. Ignoring the piercing gazes from the crowd is hard, though… I can feel them on me. Not only are they ignoring us, but they're also showing us how much they hate District 12. They want to pass judgement on us, and the sentence is death. Dead-silent judges watching walking dead, that's what they are. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. I can only hope this parade will be over soon.
…...
Izumi Laine (12)- District 4 male tribute
The Flirt
So, here I am. That's the moment… the moment of truth, the moment in which I'll see my father- the president of Panem- for the first time… in person, at least. After all, he's the most powerful man of the nation, so you can often see him on TV. I felt so thrilled and proud the day he was appointed president… my father, the president of Panem? It seemed a dream, but then I realized that my life wouldn't change at all, for I was nothing to the new president; probably, he didn't even know that I existed. I've been trying to imagine him in luxurious villas full of delicious food and fancy people for a while, but I've never been able to hate him, even though he slept with my mother and then abandoned her. After the war, I was alone, but was it his fault? He doesn't know that I'm his son. To him, I'm just one of the twenty-six tributes who are going fight in the arena this year… a tribute he wouldn't bet on, that's for sure. After all, I'm just twelve, and I am the youngest tribute of this year. No one would ever think that I stand a chance, but maybe if they knew the truth… but should I really tell the truth? What try have I? He would probably deny everything… the words of a twelve-year-old against those of President Smith… I already know whom they would believe, and yet…
"Look," says Olivia at some point.
I turn to her. "What?"
"They stopped playing the anthem at the passage of Twelve and Thirteen."
I look at them. Their chariots have just joined the others, and indeed you cannot hear the anthem… you cannot hear anything, the crowd has fallen silent!
"Looks like the Capitol has already killed them," she adds.
Her tone sounds neutral and solemn, the tone of a person who's sure of possessing the truth. Is she happy? Or is she disgusted? Are her words critical? I don't know Olivia very well, so I'd better not speak my mind. The position of District 4 has always been liminal… like that of its citizens, after all. Career or non-Career? Loyal or not loyal? Besides, Olivia is not looking at me. Maybe she was just talking to herself.
Suddenly, they start playing the anthem again. The crowd stands up and begins to cheer. Spotlights on the mansion's balcony, where President Smith is emerging. My heart is pounding like crazy. That's the moment!
Father…
He greets the crowd with a wide smile, but he doesn't look down at the chariots. Why?
Please, father, look at me… just for a second… and I'll know if you know…
"Good evening, Panem! It's a good evening, indeed. I'm glad to see a crowd who's so excited for the Hunger Games, as well as I'm glad to welcome the tributes of this year. I hope this enthusiasm will stay constant till the very end. That said, there's not much to add… happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"
The president disappears, accompanied by the cheers of the crowd.
He didn't look at me! He didn't look at me… and neither at the other tributes. Did he do it on purpose? Are we just a number to him? Just victims to sacrifice for the nation's sake? I'm bitter and disappointed, and yet… I'm pretty sure he avoided my gaze on purpose. He does know that I'm his son, and this lights a little flame of hope inside me. All in not lost… maybe.
…...
Lavender Sunnart (13)- District 11 male tribute
The Colour Blind
The Capitol, the parade… oh, everything is so amazing, so overwhelming! Now, I'm in… how did they call it? Ah, yeah, I'm in an elevator, heading to the eleventh floor- eleventh! I've never seen such tall buildings before!- of the Training Center. You don't need to climb stairs, if there's an elevator. How smart! My heart is still beating like crazy. The image of Capitol City you get on TV pales in comparison to the real Capitol City. You cannot get an idea of how amazing this place is until you visit it. If I wasn't here for the Games, my happiness could be complete, but…
When the doors of the elevator open, I gasp.
"Wow…" I cannot help whispering.
District 11's floor is amazing! It comprises a series of barrel-shaped platforms that seem to be made of wood, linked to each another by boardwalks. All around the platforms, what looks like a sea made of plastic objects in the shape of different types of fruit. On both sides, two giant, oblong, muntined windows that look into the sparkling skyscrapers of Capitol City. In addition, there are several still-life pictures hanging on the dark walls. They're positioned on verticals, from the largest to the smallest, so that you get the impression that the room is higher than it is. Above our heads, the room is lit by round-shaped ceiling lights that look like stars from below. If only I could see the colours of this amazing place…
"Okay, okay… I know that this is probably the most beautiful place you've ever been, but you'll have plenty of time to enjoy it," says the escort. "Now, come this way, please."
We reach the central platform, where there are two sofas facing each other. We sit down, Livia and I on one sofa, our escort and our mentor on the other.
"Your mentor would like to tell you something," says the escort, addressing us. "Please, Mariposa…" -she sighs- "… it has been a stressful day. I'm sure we all need to get some sleep, so let's make this quick."
Mariposa Hadley is the mentor of District 11. She's a Capitolite. On the train, I asked her how Capitolite mentors were selected. She answered that every candidate had to send a curriculum, where they should specify which district they wanted to mentor. In addition, they were all interviewed. Only candidates with some kind of training experience were chosen; in her case, she's an aerobics instructor. I haven't got the foggiest idea of what aerobics is, but Mariposa seems to be a friendly, helpful person, and that's what matters. At least, I know she'll try to help us in the arena; besides, being a Capitolite, she's likely to be given more credit than victors coming from recently defeated districts, right? Of course, not all the districts needed Capitolite mentors, given that some victors are still alive, but obviously that's not the case of Eleven.
"Don't worry, Vanilla, I'll be quick," replies Mariposa, then she addresses us: "I just need to know whether you want to work in team."
In response, Livia and I look at each other, but neither of us seems to know what to answer.
"My request may sound blunt to you, but, you know, we need to have a clear strategy…" she adds.
I look at her. "What would you suggest?" I enquire.
She smiles in response. "I see, you're the boy with questions. Well, I don't know what you can do, but I'd say yes to teamwork. However, there's a problem with that: do you trust each other? You know, this strategy cannot work without trust…"
I look at Livia again.
"We don't know each other," she says, clearly uneasy.
"But you've got some time to do it… three days of training… not that much, but better than nothing. I'm not allowed to help you during training, but I can advise you to choose carefully which stations to try. You won't have enough time to try them all sufficiently, so focus only on few of them. Moreover, don't be afraid of showing what you can do. Remember that sponsors are more willing to support tributes who score high, so do your best during training and during your private session, but, please, do not overdo it, okay?"
I nod in response.
"What about alliances?" asks Livia.
"Well, if you show them that you're skilled, you're likely to find allies. But it's always a matter of trust… I mean, large groups cannot… protect you forever. I don't mind working with other mentors, just… large groups are difficult to manage. Can you see my point? For the moment, I think you two can stick together, and then we'll see. You're… on probation."
So, another chapter is done. We're finally in the Capitol, and the first alliances have more or less been formed. I'm going to update on their status during training days so that you can keep track of what happens. Any thoughts on the Capitolites present in this chapter (Pandora, Mircalla, Cinnamon, Mariposa)? Which is your favourite chariot outfit? I'll assign 10 points to every district (10 points per tribute) you name.
Submitters can assign points to: Quantum (D3M), Izumi (D4M), Iora (D8F), Malachi (D10M), Lavender (D11M), Canaan (D13M)
Specific questions about tributes (you're not obliged to answer them all. Actually, you may even decide to ignore them. I ask questions just because I'd like to know your opinion):
Quantum: what do you think of his strategy?
Izumi: should he tell the truth?
Iora: should she accept Truett's help?
Malachi: any thoughts on him?
Lavender: whom would you suggest as Lavender's ally?
Canaan: what do you think of the audience's "welcoming"?
*The same of Love Is the Deadliest Weapon